The bullets threw Dort over backward and he lay on the ground, his body twitching slightly. Max walked closer and stood over him, looking down, the smoking gun still in his hand.
Two days later, Max was given his choice of joining the Army or standing trial. There was a lot of talk about a war with Cuba and the judge was very patriotic. The chances were Max could have got off on self-defense, but he didn't dare take the chance even with witnesses.
He had a date he had to keep, with a man whose name he didn't even know.
7
NEVADA STIRRED RESTLESSLY, WITH THE VAGUE feeling that someone else was in the room with him. Automatically he reached for a cigarette, and when his hand hit empty air and fell downward against the side of the couch, he came awake.
It was a moment before he remembered where he was, then he swung his legs off the couch and reached for his pants. The cigarettes were in the right-hand pocket. He put one in his mouth and struck a match.
The flame flared in the darkness and he saw Rina sitting in the deep chair, looking at him. He drew deeply on the cigarette and blew out the match. "Why ain't you sleeping?" he asked.
She took a deep breath. "I couldn't sleep," she said. 'I’m afraid."
He looked at her quizzically. "Afraid, Rina? Afraid of what?"
She didn't move in the chair. "I'm afraid of what will happen to me."
He laughed quietly, reassuringly. "You're all set and you're young. You got your whole life in front of you."
Her face was a luminous shadow in the darkness. "I know," she whispered. "That's what I tell myself. But the trouble is I can't make myself believe it."
Suddenly, she was on her knees on the floor in front of him. "You've got to help me, Nevada!"
He reached out and stroked her hair. "Things take time, Rina," he said.
Her hands caught at his. "You don't understand, Nevada," she said harshly. "I've always felt like this. Before I married Cord, before I ever came out here. Even when I was a little girl."
"I reckon, sometime or other, everyone's afraid, Rina."
Her voice was still hoarse with terror. "But not like me! I'm different. I'm going to die young of some horrible disease. I know that, Nevada. I feel it inside."
Nevada sat there quietly, his hand absently stroking her head as she cried. "Things'll be different once you get back East," he said softly. "There'll be young men there an- "
She raised her hand and looked up at him. The first faint flicker of morning light illuminated her features. Her eyes were wide and shining with her tears. "Young men, Nevada?" she asked and her voice seemed to fill with scorn. "They're one of the things I’m afraid of. Don't you think if I weren't, I'd have married Jonas instead of his father?"
He didn't answer.
"Young men are all alike," she continued. "They only want one thing from me." Her lips drew back across her white teeth and she spat the words out at him. "To fuck! To do nothing but fuck, fuck, fuck!"
He stared at her, a kind of shock running through him at hearing her clear and venomously ladylike articulation of the so familiar word. Then it was gone and he smiled.
"What do you expect, Rina?" he asked. "Why are you tellin' me all this?"
Her eyes looked into his face. "Because I want you to know me," she said. "I want you to understand what I'm like. No man ever has."
The cigarette scorched his lips. He put it out quickly. "Why me?"
"Because you're not a boy." The answer came quickly. "You're a grown man."
"An' you, Rina?" he asked.
Her eyes became almost defiant but her voice betrayed her unsureness. "I think I'm a Lesbian."
He laughed.
"Don't laugh!" she said quickly. "It's not so crazy. I've been with girls and I've been with men. And I've never made it with a man, not with any man like I have with a girl." She laughed bitterly. "Men are such fools. It's so easy to make them believe what they want to. And I know all the tricks."
His male vanity was aroused. "Maybe that's because you ain't never come up against a real man."
A challenging note came into her voice. "Oh, no?" He felt her fingers lightly search his thighs beneath the blanket and find his phallus. Quickly she threw the blanket aside and pressed her head into his lap. He felt the movement of her lips, and suddenly he was angry.
He pulled her head back by the hair. "What're you tryin' to prove?" he asked harshly.
Her breath came hard and uneven. "That you're the man," she whispered. "The one man that can make me feel."
He stared at her, not answering.
"You are the one, Nevada," she whispered. "I know it. I can feel it down inside me. You can make me whole again. I’ll never be afraid any more."
She turned her head again but his hand held her firm. Her eyes were wide and desperate. "Please, Nevada, please. Let me prove how I can love you!" She began to cry again.
Suddenly, he got to his feet and went over to the fireplace. He stirred the coals alive, fed them kindling and another log. A moment later, a crackling heat came sparkling into the room. He turned to look at her. She was still sitting on the floor in front of the couch, watching him.
Slowly he walked back toward her. "When I asked you up here, Rina, I thought I was doin' the right thing." He sat down and reached for a cigarette.
Before he could light it, she held a match for him. "Yes, Nevada?" she questioned softly.
The flame glowed in his eyes and died as the match went out. "I ain't the man you're lookin' for, Rina."
Her fingers touched lightly on his cheek. "No, Nevada," she said quickly. "That's not true."
"Mebbe not," he said and a slow smile came over his lips. "But I figger I'm too young. You see, all I want to do with you is – fuck, fuck, fuck!"
She stared at him for a moment and then she began to smile. She got up quickly and took the cigarette from his mouth. Her lips brushed fleetingly against his for a moment, then she walked to the fire and turned to face him. She put the cigarette between her lips and inhaled deeply.
Then she made a slight movement and the robe fell to the floor. The leaping fire turned her naked body into red gold. Swiftly she threw the cigarette into the fireplace behind her and started back toward him.
"Maybe it's better this way," she said, coming down into his outstretched arms. "Now we can be friends."
8
"THE SHOW'S IN TROUBLE," THE CASHIER SAID.
Nevada glanced at Rina. She was looking out the window of the ticket wagon, watching the last act of the Wild-West show going on in the arena. The faint sounds of the whooping and yelling drifted back to them on the still, warm air.
"How much trouble?" Nevada asked, his eyes coming back from her.
"Enough," the cashier said flatly. "We're booked in a week behind Buffalo Bill Cody's show for the whole summer. If these two weeks are any indication, we'll drop forty thousand this season."
A bugle sounding a charge hung in the air. Nevada shifted in his uncomfortable wooden chair and began to roll a cigarette. The performance was almost over now. The cavalry was coming to the rescue of the beleaguered pioneers. He stuck the cigarette in his mouth.
"How'd you let a stupid thing like that happen?" he asked, the cigarette dangling unlit from his lips.
"Wasn't my fault, Nevada," the cashier answered quickly. "I think the agent sold us out."
Nevada didn't answer. He lit the cigarette.
"What you going to do?" the cashier asked worriedly.
Nevada filled his lungs with smoke. "Play out the season."
"For forty grand?" The cashier's voice was shocked. "We can't afford to lose that much money!"
Nevada studied him. The cashier's face was flushed and embarrassed. He wondered why the man seemed so upset. It wasn't his money that was going to be lost.
"We can't afford not to," Nevada said. "We fold up, we lose all our top hands. They won't sign with us for next year if we dump 'em now."
Nevada got to his feet, walked over to the wind
ow and looked out. The Indians were riding out of the arena with the whooping cavalry hot after them. He turned back to the cashier. "I'm takin' Mrs. Cord down to the railroad station. I'll drop in at the agent's office after that. You wait for me here. I'll be back."
"O.K., Nevada," the cashier answered.
Nevada took Rina's arm as they went down the wagon steps. They cut across the field to his car. All around them hustled performers, hurrying their horses to the corral, racing to their wagons to change clothes, yelling to each other about their plans for the evening.
Rina turned to him as they reached the car. "Let me stay with you, Nevada, please."
He smiled slowly. "I thought we had that settled."
"But, Nevada," Her eyes grew serious. "There's nothing for me back East. Really. Here, at least, I can feel alive, excitement-
"Stop actin' like a kid," he said. "You're a grown woman now. This ain't no life for you. You'd be sick of it in a week."
"I’ll buy half your losses this season if you let me stay," she said quickly.
He looked at her sharply. He thought she hadn't even heard the conversation back in the wagon, she had seemed so engrossed in the show. "You can't afford it," he said.
"And you can?" she countered.
"Better'n you," he said quickly. "I got more'n just the one thing goin' for me."
She stared at him for a moment, then got into the car. She didn't speak until they were at the station and she was ready to board the train.
"You’ll write me, Nevada?" she asked.
"I ain't much for writin'," he said.
"But you'll keep in touch?" she persisted. "You'll answer if I write you?"
He nodded.
"You'll let me come and visit you sometimes?" she asked. "If I’m lonely and frightened?"
"That's what friends're for," he said.
A hint of moisture came into her eyes. "You've been a good friend, Nevada," she said seriously.
She kissed him on the cheek and climbed up the steps of the Pullman car. At the door, she turned and waved brightly, then disappeared inside. He saw her face appear in the window for a moment as the train began to move. Then she was gone and he turned and walked out of the station.
He walked up a rickety flight of stairs that led into a dust-ridden corridor. The paint on the door was scratched and worn, the lettering simple and faded.
DANIEL PIERCE – BOOKING AGENT
The office lived up to the reputation of the corridor outside. A girl looked up at him from a littered desk. Her hair bore traces of its last henna rinse, the gum cracked in her mouth as she asked, almost hostilely, "What d'ya want?"
"Dan Pierce in?" he asked.
She studied Nevada for a moment, her eyes taking in his worn leather jacket, the faded Levi's, the wide-brimmed cowboy hat. "If you're lookin' for a job," she said, "there ain't any."
"I'm not lookin' for a job," he said quickly. "I’m lookin' for Mr. Pierce."
"You got an appointment?"
Nevada shook his head. "No."
"He don't see nobody without an appointment," she said brusquely.
"I'm from the Wild-West show," Nevada said. "He’ll see me."
A spark of interest appeared on her face. "The Buffalo Bill show?"
Nevada shook his head. "No. The Great Southwest Rodeo."
"Oh." The interest vanished from her face. "The other one."
Nevada nodded. "Yeah, the other one."
"Well, he ain't here," she said.
"Where can I find him?" he asked.
"I don't know. He went out to a meeting."
Nevada's voice was insistent. "Where?"
Something in his eyes made her answer. "He went over to Norman Pictures. He's on the back lot trying to sell them some client for a Western."
"How do I get there?"
"It's out on Lankershim Boulevard, past Universal, past Warner's."
"Thanks," he said and walked out.
He saw the big billboard in front of Universal as soon as he turned onto Lankershim.
UNIVERSAL PICTURES
THE HOME OF TOM MIX AND TONY
SEE
RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE
A UNIVERSAL PICTURE
A few minutes later, he passed another sign in front of Warner Bros.
WARNER BROS. PRESENT
MILTON SELLS
IN
THE SEA HAWK
A VITAGRAPH PICTURE
The Norman studio was about five miles farther down the road. The usual billboard was out in front.
BERNARD B. NORMAN PRODUCTIONS
PRESENT
THE SHERIFF OF PEACEFUL VILLAGE
WITH AN ALL-STAR CAST
He turned in at the big gate where a gateman stopped him.
"Is Dan Pierce here?" Nevada asked.
"Just a moment. I’ll see." The guard went back into his booth and checked a sheet of paper. "You must be the man he's expecting," he said. "He's on the back lot. Follow the road there right out. You can't miss it."
Nevada thanked him and put the car into gear. He drove slowly, for the road was filled with people. Some were actors in varying costumes but most seemed ordinary working men, wearing overalls and work clothes. He rolled past some very large buildings and after a few minutes was out in the clear. Here there was nothing but scrub grass and hills.
He came to another sign as he reached the foot of the first hill.
PEACEFUL SET
PARK CARS HERE
He followed the arrow. Just off the side of the road were a number of cars and trucks. He pulled in next to one of them and got out.
"Dan Pierce up there?" Nevada asked a man sitting in one of the trucks.
"Is he with the Peaceful crew?" the driver asked.
"I reckon," Nevada said.
"They're just over the hill."
At the crest of the hill, Nevada paused and looked down. A little below was a knot of people.
"Roll 'em, they're coming!" a heavy voice shouted.
Suddenly a stagecoach came roaring along the dirt road below him. Just as it took the curve, Nevada saw the driver jump off and roll to the side of the road. A moment later, the horses broke free of their traces and the coach tilted off the side of the road and went tumbling down the hill.
The dust had scarcely subsided when a voice shouted, "Cut! Cut! God damn it, Russell. You jumped too soon. The stage didn't go over the hill for a full forty frames after you!"
The driver got up from the side of the road and walked slowly toward the group of men, dusting his jeans with his hat.
Nevada started down the hill. He searched the crowd for Pierce, but didn't see him anywhere.
A man walked past, carrying a can of film. "Is Dan Pierce around?" Nevada asked.
The man shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno. Ask him," he said, pointing at a young man wearing knickers.
"Is Dan Pierce around?"
The young man looked up. "He had to go up to the front office for a phone call."
"Thanks," Nevada said. "I’ll wait for him." He began to roll a cigarette.
The stentorian voice was shouting again. "Is Pierce back with that goddam stunt man yet?"
"He went to phone him," the young man said. A startled look came to his face as he looked at Nevada again. "Wait a minute, sir," he yelled and started toward Nevada. "You the guy Pierce was expecting?"
"I guess so."
"Come with me," the young man said.
Nevada followed him into the group of men clustered around a tall man next to the camera.
The young man stopped in front of him. "This is the man Pierce was expecting, sir."
The man turned and looked at Nevada, then pointed at a cliff on the next hill. Below the cliff flowed a wide stream of water. "Could you jump a horse off that cliff into the water?"
Nevada followed the pointing finger. It was about a sixty-foot drop and the horse would have to leap out at least fifteen feet to land in the water.
"We have the strea
m dug twenty-five feet deep right there," the director said.
Nevada nodded. That was deep enough. "I reckon it can be done," he said.
The director broke into a smile. "Well, I'll be goddamned!" he roared. "We finally found us a man with balls." He clapped Nevada on the back. "You go over there and the wrangler will give you the horse. We'll be ready just as soon as we get this shot here."
He turned back to the cameraman. Nevada tapped him on the shoulder. "I said I reckon it can be done," he said. "I didn't say I'd do it."
The director stared at him curiously. "We're paying triple the stunt rate; isn't ninety dollars enough for you? O.K., I’ll make it a hundred."
Nevada smiled. "You got me wrong. I came out here lookin' for Dan Pierce. I ain't no stunt-rider."
The director's mouth twisted contemptuously. "You cowboys are all alike. All talk and no guts."
Nevada stared at him for a minute. He felt the hard knot of anger tightening inside him. He was tired of this, of the runaround he'd been getting ever since Pierce's office. His voice went cold. "It'll cost you five hundred dollars for me to take a horse off that cliff."
The director stared at him, then broke into a smile. "You must've heard that every man in Hollywood turned that jump down."
Nevada didn't answer.
"O.K. Five hundred it is," the director said casually and turned back to the cameraman.
Nevada stood near the horse's head, feeding him an occasional lump of sugar. The horse nuzzled his hand. He patted the horse's neck. It was a good horse. The animal responded quickly and there wasn't a frightened bone in his body.
"We're about ready," the director said. "I've got cameras covering you from every angle, so you don't have to worry which way to look. You go when I give the signal."
Nevada nodded and mounted the horse. The director stood limned against the edge of the cliff, his hand raised in the air. Suddenly, his hand dropped and Nevada dug his spurs into the horse. The animal leaped forward in almost a full gallop. Nevada gave him his head and led him into the jump.
The Carpetbaggers Page 10
